The Hoover Dam

The Hoover Dam

It’s like someone has turned a tap on behind my eyeballs and wandered off leaving it running.

It started with the book “When Breath Becomes Air” by Paul Kalanithi – the story of Paul coming to an end of a decade’s training as a neurosurgeon and being diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. It was never going to be the easiest of reads but it made me examine my own mortality in the harshest way and made me howl with tears.

Then it was a YouTube video of someone unboxing a handbag. Yes a Mulberry handbag reduced me to tears. She was just so shocked and grateful and before I knew it I was snivelling away wiping tears on my sleeve.

An indie rom-com with Daniel Radcliffe was next. It wasn’t even very good but the thought that they might go through the whole film blatantly in love with each other and not end up together at the end was too much to take. Boom. Tears. Even more tears when the frigging thing finished without a proper conclusion. Bastards.

Within the first three minutes of watching “Diana: In Her Own Words” I was reduced to tears thinking about how she died on my Mum’s birthday and then less than a year later my own Mum was dead too. I knew I was headed for a proper snotty sob fest so had to switch back to Harry Potter which was weird given I’d just been crying at a film where Harry showed someone his wand.

Lord only knows what I’ll cry about tomorrow. Perhaps it’s time to buy shares in Kleenex? It turns out medication regime changes can be an absolute pain in the arse when it comes to getting onslaughts of weeping. Chatting to my wonderful friend Bella I realised it’s going to be really hard to work out the new normal. I’ve been medicated against the feels for so long that I have no frame of reference for what is “normal” sadness and what is “I’m totally worthless why am I on this planet” sadness.